Forever Family
by Ceasefire
Summary: Ficlets written for the 50ficlets challenge on LJ involving different characters, pairings and genres. Chapter five: Dino. Prompt: tattoo.
1. Tsuna: Fellowship

This is a collection of drabbles written for the 50ficlets challenge on Livejournal, in a vain attempt to beat my word count for 2010 by the end of 2011. Some will be gen, some will have pairings, all will be between one hundred and one thousand words in length. I hope you enjoy them!

Amano Akira owns Reborn. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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><p><strong>Theme One -<strong>_** Family**_

There had been many times that Tsuna had felt that his Guardians were like family to him; the fact that they had been through so much together had certainly given him a sense of appreciation and concern, and that had given way to camaraderie and genuine loyalty. The process had been gradual but smooth, and Tsuna eventually found, with some surprise, that he had started focusing on the positive, logical aspects of his Guardians' personalities instead of panicking about the bad.

There had been so many occasions on which Tsuna had relied on them, and although he could see the similarities, it was the subtle differences that made each time they gathered in the one place unique but familiar, as if every one of his recollections was the same memory against a different backdrop.

There was Gokudera, fiercely loyal and protective as he was, who stayed by his side and defended against any threat without hesitation. Yamamoto always protected his back, an easy smile on his face and encouraging words flowing from his lips as he cut down anyone willing to challenge him. Lambo started every battle with both innocence and hesitance, and became more confident with every enemy that fell to the Vongola; if Tsuna caught him looking at the older Guardians with admiration, he could manage a smile in the middle of the worst firefight. Ryohei was the pinnacle of fervour and enthusiasm, throwing bare-fisted punches and shouting over the fray to Tsuna - and anyone else close enough to listen - when they connected and sent his attackers sprawling to the ground. Hibari distanced himself from the other Guardians and tore through any enemy he came across with deadly precision and force, crushing them underfoot as if they were the weakest challenge he had ever faced. Chrome stood placidly with her trident clutched tightly in both hands, and would have looked out of place among the violence were in not for the several men sprawled around her feet, screaming and writhing in agony from an illusion that Tsuna was glad he could not see. And then as the floor opens beneath him to an empty blackness that he knows isn't even real, Tsuna shuts his eyes regardless and feels as if he's stuck between sleep and consciousness even as a soft laugh echoes in his mind, accompanied by the flash of a red eye...

And then it's over as abruptly as it began, with only the eight of them left standing. Hibari leaves almost immediately, without a farewell or any further acknowledgement. Mukuro departs quickly too, and Chrome follows after a brief but noticeable moment of hesitation. As Gokudera, Yamamoto, Lambo and Ryohei fall into their usual post-battle duties, Tsuna wonders if it's wrong that above all, he's glad that they are safe. He poses the question to Reborn when he returns, and his tutor breaks into a small smile that could be interpreted a million ways.

Family, he realised, stood by each other with the purest form of loyalty. They laughed and encouraged through the bad times. They grew and developed into something stronger with the help of the people around them. They were the most vocal, and the most silent forms of support. They protected one another from anguish. And in the world of the Mafia, they were the final, powerful word in every argument.

For better or for worse, Tsuna knew that his Guardians were his family.

**end.**


	2. Gokudera: Self preservation

Next up is Gokudera!

Amano Akira owns Reborn. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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><p><strong>Theme Two -<strong>_** Limits**_

Gokudera Hayato had once thought that the best way to preserve oneself was through a veil of confidence with a reckless streak as wide as the horizon. It had shaped his mind, and growing up in the Mafia had given him a strong idea of the concept of "high risk, high reward". The same philosophy had assisted with the choice of his fighting style, had helped him affirm the faith he had in his weapon of choice after Shamal had made the suggestion, had helped to shape his entire attitude and philosophy up until the moment he'd travelled to Japan to test the new Vongola heir.

The defeat was not what broke him; he had come to Japan to test the Vongola heir, after all, and defeat meant nothing but reassurance that the Ninth had made the right choice. Submitting to your superiors was part of being in the Mafia, and he could see that Sawada Tsunayoshi would become a great Boss. That was deserving of his unconditional loyalty.

No, the thing that broke down his philosophy and rebuilt it in the same instant was the Tenth himself.

The fight against the Varia Storm had been long and painful, and it drove him to avoid failure like nothing else. He knew death was a possibility, and a painful one at that, but shaming the person for which he had felt such fidelity had seemed like an impossible option. He was supposed to be the most trustworthy, the strongest-

- and in a second, all of the thoughts in his mind were gone, because his life meant more to the Tenth than the victory. And so he returned, empty-handed save for his life, and that was what made the Tenth happiest of all.

Gokudera no longer knew what it was to feel invincible, but he certainly knew what it was to feel that your drive to live for another was limitless.  
><strong>end.<strong>


	3. Yamamoto : Pacified

Next up is Yamamoto! ... I'm sorry that I can't write you properly, Yama.

Amano Akira owns Reborn. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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><p><strong>Theme Three -<strong>_** Spirit**_

The Tenth Vongola Rain Guardian is nineteen when he makes his first kill.

Being alone on missions had made him nervous when he was younger - the result of being so used to operating as a team - and although the discomforting feeling eased with age, being the lone man in enemy territory could still play with even the calmest of minds. He'd made it to that critical point without raising too much suspicion. One stupid, amateur mistake revealed his presence and jeopardised the mission. Yamamoto wryly as his opponent shouted and drew his weapon; if they'd known, Tsuna would have fretted over him, Gokudera would probably have called him an idiot and Squalo would have simply knocked him across the room, shouted and called him a brat.

It was a one-sided fight in the most literal sense. Yamamoto rushed in with the little thought that came with being surprised. The man opposite him mirrored his movements, but hesitated as they got close to one another. It was over with as quickly as it took him to drawn his sword and strike.

Yamamoto sheathed his sword without bothering to clean it, and wrinkled his nose at the metallic smell of fresh blood carelessly spilled. It came as a surprise that he _wasn't_ shocked; in fact, he felt so calm that it was almost troubling. It was like watching someone pin you down, drawn back their fist and punch you in slow motion. No matter how much you anticipate the blow, it still hurts when it connects. Perhaps, because it was the first time he'd ever controlled the mortality of another human being, he did not know how to react. He stood still for as long as he can, inhaled and exhaled slowly, wondered how hard it is to remain positive through guilt. There had been times in his life when he had let people down and tried to better himself through practice and redemption. He wondered vaguely if it's possible to apply the same principle to killing.

The rest of the mission goes smoothly, and he found that he could smile when he walked into Tsuna's office the next day to report his success. Tsuna smiled in return and listened to his report in silence, but there was something in his expression that told Yamamoto that Tsuna could read his emotions like an open book. It was only when he turned to leave that Tsuna spoke.

"Yamamoto?"

"Yeah, Tsuna?"

"If you ever want to talk, I'd be happy to listen."

Yamamoto realised that his smile had become genuine.

"Thanks."

**end.**


	4. Hibari: Four Steps from Emancipation

Next up is Baripants! ... I mean Hibari.

Amano Akira owns Reborn. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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><p><strong>Theme Three -<strong>_** Freedom**_

i. He would always be the last one to be tied down, the one who would never submit to the authority of another. He had learned at a young age to never place trust in the strength of another until they had earned it; other people were weak, could not gain the level of strength that he knew he could reach. His father had told him that every desirable human trait in the world were traits of the strong, and he had no reason to not believe him. And so he trained every day, promised himself that he would never need to rely on the strength of another person, and eventually became happy with his progress. The strong paved the way for the pitifully weak to follow along the set route, and he knew without a doubt that he was one of the strongest.

ii. On his first day of middle school, he ignored teachers and other students alike and did as he pleased. That was how he had lived up until that point in time, and that was how he would continue to live. He ignored the red faces and furious voices of the teachers and simply did as he pleased. Their method of discipline was ineffectual and inadequate. Their words did not trouble him; they were all arrogant herbivores, who and acted without fear despite the fact that he could easily make them his prey. During the lunch break he wandered the school, found the strongest-looking students and bit them all to death with ease. He then climbed to the roof of the school, wiped the blood from his face and tonfas and lay down for a well-deserved nap. It wouldn't be a bad thing to discipline the entire herbivorous school, he thought. Before the final bell, he was called to the headmaster's office and shown the inherent weakness of Namimori Middle School's brand of discipline. The headmaster yelled, he threatened, and finished his pointless display by him a week of detention. He smirked. It was impossible for someone like that to keep someone as strong as he was caged against his will. He sat in the office and watched the herbivore avoid him until he finally conceded that his parents were not coming to talk about his _misbehaviour_ and told him to leave.

iii. The next day, he found the same group of students he'd fought the day before and bit them all to death a second time. It would do them good to have a constant reminder that they were now inferior, less than the best. He took a bad blow to the cheek that made his skin swell and sting, but he dealt the finishing blow. In the end, victory was all that mattered. It was only after their leader had rid his mouth of blood and broken teeth that his opponent spoke to him.

"What do you want?"

He paused and considered that question, and then stood on the leader's fingers with the heel of his shoe when he realised he was making a sad attempt to escape.

"I want strength."

"We can help."

A sneer. "Only the weak rely on others."

But perhaps, he thought, it could be useful to have others to administer his superior style of discipline. Loyalty was not to be underestimated. Even the strongest could have confidantes, seconds that would not dare question them or challenge their authority.

"Get up." He removed his foot from the other's bruised fingers. This one seemed to be the least herbivorous, at least. They'd managed to get that part right, even through their weakness.

"What-?"

"What is your name, herbivore?"

"Kusakabe Tetsuya."

A smirk. "I'll bite you to death once you outlive your usefulness."

He was strong alone, but it was on that day that he realised strength could be more effective in greater in numbers.

iv. There was something satisfying in knowing that you owned something so completely. When he walked through the gates, teachers regarded him with the respect he deserved. Students stared in fear and awe and stepped aside to minimise crowding. He stood at the school gates as the students arrived to ensure that everything was regulation, to make sure that punishment was given to those who thought they could defy his strength. It had taken longer than he would have wanted to gain this level of control, but it had been its own reward. Discipline was essential. Physical strength ensured all forms of superiority over the weak. And power ensured freedom, the knowledge that no one could bother nor challenge his authority.

He left the gate after disciplining the last few students trying to make it through the gate before the bell. He spend the morning running the school and went to the roof just after the midday lunch break. He looked down at the herbivorous crowds of students filing back to class and felt the breeze make a vain effort to knock him down. It felt like a driving force. It felt like impunity.

"Kyou-san!"

His thoughts were cut short as Kusakabe barged through the door that led to the roof, covered in cuts and bruises.

"Tetsu."

"Kyou-san, there's three students in the Discipline Committee's Room causing a disturbance."

His eyes narrowed. "I'll bite them to death."

He grabbed his tonfas from where he had discarded them by the door, stepped around Kusakabe and made his way down to the Committee's room. It was no reason hurry. They would be weaker than he was. He understood strength better than any of the other weaklings at Namimori Middle.

He smirked and tightened his grip on his tonfas. He would show them that herbivores were not worthy of challenging his authority.  
><strong>end.<strong>


	5. Dino: Marks of Pride

Next up is Dino.

Amano Akira owns Reborn. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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><p><strong>Theme Five -<strong>_** Tattoo**_

The ink on his skin was a record of who he was since obtaining the title of Cavallone Tenth.

It had started with the desire to honour his late father with something more permanent and tangible than a memory. Something more accessible than the empty coffin they'd buried in the churchyard near the Cavallone estate, after recovering his father's body from the flooded Po River had proven to be an impossibility. He'd told his men as much when he'd drawn himself up to his full height at twelve years of age and said he wanted his first tattoo. His father had sported ink down both of his arms; records of his personal history, his convictions, his passions and his most significant kills. His men had laughed at first, but had agreed to the idea when it became clear that he wasn't going to give up until he got what he wanted. And so they had one of the family members - a tall man covered from head to toe in different colours, symbols and words of ink - visit him after a particularly harsh training session with Reborn to tattoo the top of his left arm. He wasn't about to lie; his first tattoo has hurt like hell, but he sat through the pain and the concerned, patronising looks of his men with arm tense and jaw tightly shut until the tattoo was complete. The orange starburst stood out vividly on his arm, even against the tan and angry, irritated red of his skin. He managed a smile when he looked at it, and that small gesture alone seemed to be enough to provide his men with some reassurance.

From that day onward, it had become as much of a habit as it had a superstition for the significant things in his life to find a real, permanent place on his skin. The flames on his collarbone, shoulder blade and hand were there to cover up scars left by bullet wounds he'd gained while making his most important kills. The rearing horse on the top of his forearm had been added when he'd earned his nickname. The red-lined barbed wire represented his links to his family, the unbreakable bonds that he forged with each and every man under his command. The blue and black pattern curling down the side of his body was added to every time one of his men lost his life serving the Cavallone.

Each had its significance. They were all mementos of the people most important to him, of the moments in his life that had defined him, of his successes and failures and of his wins and losses. And he would carry them with him forever, long past the day that the Mafia took his life.  
><strong>end.<strong>


End file.
